Tales of the White Lotus
by RedHairedPeanuts
Summary: Iroh, Piandao, Jeong-Jeong and Pakku, all different boys from different backgrounds. Follow four storylines, intertwined by war and destiny. Their childhoods, their loves, their mistakes and their uncertainty and the difficulties they have to face.
1. Birth of a Prince

**A/N: A new story I'm working on. Sorry this is so so so so so so so so so short! This is only the first chapter and I didn't want to make it too long. Expect longer updates in the future. This story will contain four storylines.. Iroh, Jeong-Jeong, Piandao and Pakku. I hope you enjoy :)  
**

王子的誕生

Chapter One: Birth of a Prince

_Year 1037 (36 years into the Great War)_

Maids and wet nurses hurried like bees in a bee's nest, struggling to perform their allocated tasks. Princess Ilah lay, in the centre of the farce, breathing loudly in short breaths, being catered upon by dozens of servants. Ilah could barely see her husband past the storm of people catering for her. She would have given anything to be alone with her husband, holding his hand, while she gave birth to his child! But that was not how things were for the Fire Lord's wife. Many women died in pregnancy, it was the number one killer of women, not only in the Fire Nation but in the entire world. This scared many women out of becoming pregnant, but Ilah did not have the luxury of choice. She was the Fire Lord's wife. She _had _to provide Azulon with an heir.

Pain chorused up Ilah's womb as the unborn child prepared to enter the world. Ilah screamed, which increased the panic of the servants around her. They moved quickly, applying water to her brow, washing her, trying to make things as comfortable as possible.

"Breathe, my lady," whispered one of the nurses. Ilah took her advice, breathing deep and fast. Pain continued to burn her and her nerves continued to race faster than the people in front of her.

Saying that she was scared would be an understatement. She was terrified! Ever since her mother had died in childbirth with Ilah's younger brother, she had vowed from that young age to never go through what her mother went through.

That was until she met Azulon.

Ilah continued to scan the room in desperate search of her husband, the man she loved. Finally, her gaze fell to him. He has sitting down, his eyes gazed at the ground, looking but not really seeing. His fingers were curled curiously under his chin. Azulon was not the handsomest man in the Fire Nation, but Ilah loved him anyway. Every time they touched, whenever they were near, Ilah felt as though things would be perfect forever. She loved him, even though he was her senior by 20 years.

Ilah was only 17 years old.

Ilah was born to a wealthy and politically rich family. She was one of the few women of her generation to learn and master fire bending. Perhaps it was that which attracted Azulon to her. They used to be so close to one another, so happy together. Now, they were not.

Ilah screamed again, the baby pushing harder inside her. It was coming now. The pain was agonising. White spots blurred in front of her eyes. The nurses had stopped running and were now crowded around her. The pain burned inside her. There came cries "Push, push," from the maids. The white spots grew larger and larger, swallowing her into unconsciousness. "My lady," screamed the maids, but Ilah could no longer hear them.

Ilah loved Azulon, and as far as she could tell, Azulon adored her. They got married by the turtle-duck pond, there wedding was one of the most celebrated events in over a century. They were genuinely in love.

But it could not last forever.

Azulon's love for a son outgrew that of his wife. Ilah held out, not wanting to go through what her mother did. Azulon had hit her, forced her, and eventually Ilah gave in. She was so strong-willed before the marriage, one of the best fire benders of her age, even though she was a woman. But Azulon had broken her.

During her pregnancy, she became withdrawn from the world. This didn't affect her husband very much. Any affection Azulon had once held for her was now gone. All he cared about was his son.

A nurse slapped Ilah into consciousness.

"My lady," she whispered with fear. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ilah whispered in a low voice. She examined the room. It was the master bedroom of the palace. She was placed under the sheets, her husband stood across the room, holding her newborn son in his arms. He dismissed the nurse.

"I was thinking of naming him Kuzon," Ilah smiled. Seeing her son sent a powerful emotion flying through her body. It took her a few moments to realise what it was; happiness.

"He will be named Iroh," Azulon said with authority. "After my great grandfather."

Ilah bowed her head. "Of course," she whispered in a withdrawn voice.

Azulon's eyes grew bright as he gazed at his son, a look he used to give to her. Ilah knew that the birth of Iroh would only drive her and her husband further apart. Her husband always longed for a son, a child to call his own. All of his remaining love to her would be given to his son. Ilah bowed her head, she wished deeply to old her son close to her, but she new that Azulon would not give him up.

Not to her, not to anyone, not to the world. Iroh would be his father's son.

Slowly, quiet tears grew in Ilah's eyes.


	2. The White Lotus

**A/n: Many thanks to all the people who have read and reviewed this fic. Within 24 hours this fic had a better response than any others I have written. **

**Why I am writing this fic: When I started writing this I had an idea in mind. Most fics on this site are pointless fluffs, clichéd attempts at already done stories. Only vary rarely will I read a story that contains characters from the show. It shows that the authors do not have, either the courage or the skills to develop there own characters. **

**When I began writing this I wanted it to become a daring, bold, strong angst filled adventure. I want it to have spiritual meaning, and to teach people about real life, and give subliminal lessons to the readers. I want this to be a fic worth reading! This probably won't come up later, once characters have developed and struggled. That is what I hope to achieve. Grammatical errors aside, I'm no grammar expert. Beta reader wanted, with experience. I'm too lazy to cruise through the Beta Reader section. **

**To the readers of Korin's Talisman and the De Sei Ba; I will update soon. **

白色蓮花

Chapter Two:  The White Lotus

_Year 1043 (42 years into the Great War)._

Rain belted against the side of the Fire Nation palace, slamming into windows, leaving a wet, slippery stain against the glass. Iroh watched the rain with mild, patient interest, observing the continuous flow of water from the heavens, his curious eyes pressed against the firm glass.

A scream filled the room.

Iroh turned to the sound of the noise, only to meet his mother's shocked face.

"Iroh," Ilah screeched hastily. "Get down from there!"

"Yes, mother," the young boy said in a sad, resigned voice. There had only been one window in Iroh's room and it was nearly five meters up. Iroh had sneaked into his father's study, stole a large number of books, and had stacked the tomes, one by one, and climbed up the uneasy, make-shift ladder.

The six year old carefully climbed down the tottering pile of books, and ran straight into his mother's arms. Ilah gripped onto Iroh tightly to her breast, not wanting to let him go.

"Mum," Iroh said, his voice muffled beneath his mother. "You can let go now."

Ilah pulled back from his son. "What if you had fallen?!" she growled, putting on an angry voice, but her, thankful, frightened eyes gave her true emotions away.

"Come on, Iroh" Ilah said softly, tucking some of her husband's books under her arm. "Lets take these back before your father finds out."

Iroh moved hurridly to the books and obediently picked them up. They were at least half his size in length and of the same width, but Iroh showed no trouble carrying the large books, even carrying three or four.

Iroh handed the books to his mother, as she slid them back into the bookcase. Once they were all in place, Ilah turned to her son.

"Iroh," she said sternly. "We don't take people's things without there permission. Especially not from your father. And especially not if it puts us in danger!"

"I wasn't in danger!" Iroh protested.

"Iroh," Ilah sighed. "I know you're brave and I know you're smart and I know you're careful. But accidents happen. If you had fallen and those books had come down on top of you.." her voice broke, imagining her son trapped beneath the books, unable to breathe. "Just don't do it anymore. Okay?"

"Okay," Iroh agreed with reluctance. "But I have nothing to do."

Ilah's eyes gleamed. "Well..." she said, before diving at her son, trapping him beneath her grip, sliding her hand up his shirt and tickling his stomach.

"Stop!" Iroh giggled, "Stop, mother, Please!"

Ilah pulled back from her son, laughing with her son.

"I think it's time I taught you a game my mother taught me."

XXXX

A 50 year old man lay hunched over the motionless body of an aged man. He looked like a corpse. His skin was wrinkled; he lay silent beneath his blankets. Dull, grey bags hung under his eyes. The younger man turned from the older man and gazed out the rain stained window, gazing at his own reflection.

His hair had already turned grey, even though he was only 50. His face was grave, slowing all the pain he felt, physical and emotional. Soft and steady tears slipped from his eyes and down to his chin, dripping off the edge.

The aged man behind him stirred.

The younger man turned. "Master!" he gasped. "Are you okay? Can I help you?"

"Alas, no," said the master. "You have done enough for me Jin. I am beyond your help."

New tears streamed from Jin's eyes.

"Do not mourn for me Jin," the master whispered his voice coarse and slow. "My time has come, as it eventually does for all living things. I have lived my fair share of life, more than most. And now, it is time I moved on."

"What will we do without you?" Jin asked through pain-filled tears.

"You will survive, and you will thrive," replied the aged master. "With the Avatar's disappearance, we are the last, the final protectors of truth and balance. And now with my parsing, that duty falls to you."

"Me?" Jin exclaimed with genuine shock.

"Yes," the master nodded. "You are a suitable heir to my position. You must defend balance relentlessly, to protect it, until the Avatar's return."

Jin hesitated for a second, and then said, "What if the Avatar does not return. There are rumours that the Avatar Cycle was broken. Many of us have lost faith."

The master replied, "The Avatar must return. It is his destiny. Aang did not die, he disappeared. I knew him before the war began. I have full faith in him," The master sighed deeply. "I am the last of my race, I escaped the massacre at the Air Temples. Only to die later on, here, with you, Jin."

"But.."

"Relax, Jin," the master said soothingly, sweat grew on his brow, over his arrow tattoo. "I have foreseen the Avatar's return. I do not know when, but I know he will return, before the arrival of Sozin's Comet."

"But it's so far away," Jin coughed. "What if I fail?"

"I choose you in full trust," the master, the air bender replied. Then he fell to a serious of violent coughs.

"Master!" Jin exclaimed in shock, diving to help his master. The coughing fits ceased nearly as soon as they began. The air bender's face softly fell, creases in his brow disappeared and all signs of weariness and sickness vanished.

Jin slid his hand beneath the old man's neck, searching desperately, but found nothing. No pulse, no signs of life.

He pulled back from his master, and cried softly. He was dead. Jin turned from the corpse, feeling sadness, feeling the weight of the momentous role he would play in the events of the future.

When he had entered he was merely Jin, servant to the only remaining Air Nomad. Now, as he left, he was Jin, Grandmaster of the Order of the White Lotus.

XXXX

Iroh watched intently at the board in front of him, a White Lotus Pai Sho tile between his teeth, unaware of the events that had just transpired, and the importance it would play in his life.

"Take that out of your mouth," Ilah growled, snatching the Pai Sho piece from his mouth.

"What are we doing?" Iroh asked with curiousity.

"I'm teaching you how to play Pai Sho," Ilah said, placing the White Lotus onto the board. "It's very complicated so pay attention.

"The point of the game is to arrange you pieces into 'harmonies'. There are two types of harmonies, right and wrong."

As Ilah continued to explain what turns a player could make, what moves a piece could play, Iroh's eyes grew wide.

"So," Ilah said, finishing her explanation. "Are you ready to play?"

"Yes!" Iroh exclaimed, already collecting his pieces.

Ilah was shocked by Iroh's immediate skill. He showed immediate strength in the game, planning strategies and moving them into action, using his mother's moves to his advantage. A natural, Ilah thought as she observed her son.

Ilah won in the end, much to Iroh's disgust, but only just.

"Don't look so downhearted," Ilah smiled. "I have had lots of practise. I've been playing since I was younger than you."

Iroh pouted.

"You are very good," Ilah smiled. Iroh turned to his mother.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Iroh beamed. "Yes! I'm good. I'm great! One day, I will become Fire Lord and I will win the war and everyone will love me and I'll be rich..."

Ilah laughed. "Don't get too far ahead of yourself."

"What is going on here?" came a stern voice.

Ilah turned, her face fell.

Azulon stood, looking through the room, and down to the Pai Sho board.

"I'm learning how to play Pai Sho!" Iroh beamed. "And I'm really good."

Azulon's face turned red.

"I will never have you playing that useless game!" Azulon shouted at his son, spraying saliva over Iroh' s face. "It is useless, pointless, time wasting! Why do you do it when you should be learning how to run your Nation!"

Iroh grimaced under his father's rage. He knew it wouldn't last long, Azulon loved his son too much to be angry with him. Iroh felt relieved when his father turned on Ilah.

"How dare you let him play such a pathetic game!" he roared at her.

"I was just.."

Azulon raised his fist and brought it down in fury. It slammed into Ilah, tearing the flesh along her face, drawing blood. She collapsed to the ground.

Iroh froze in shock. He knew that something was wrong. His father shouldn't have done that. He knew that. But what was he supposed to do. His father was Fire Lord. He could do nothing.

Ilah lifted her face from the ground, gazing at Azulon with cold fury. Azulon stepped back cautiously. Fire grew in Ilah's hands. Iroh couldn't understand what was going on.

The fire slowly disappeared from Ilah's palms. Her grim face turned to pathetic sadness. Her face turned to the ground and she began to cry silently.

Azulon turned to his son. "I never want you playing that game again," he growled. Iroh nodded sadly.

XXXX

Iroh felt sad and shocked. Rain continued to fall, and it was late at night. He couldn't understand what his father had against the game he loved so much. Though he knew what he had done to his mother was wrong.

Iroh froze as he heard soft crying from the next room. He opened up the door barely an inch and gazed through the crack. He saw his mother.

She was crying pathetically, curled up on her bed, whimpering like a dog, her bare back to her son.

Iroh had seen the bruise where Azulon had hit her, and now staring at his mother's back, he recognised what he saw.

Burns, bruises, scars, burning against her flesh. Iroh knew, without knowing how, that what his father had done today had not been the first time. He had done it before. Before he was born, and all of his life, his father had treated his mother like he had earlier.

Iroh closed the door, the small boy's face grim. He would continue to play Pai Sho, no matter what his father thought.

XXXX

Kizuki awoke with a start. She lay quietly in her soft, tiny bed, hearing a low noise. It was the sound of a baby crying. She pulled the blankets off herself, heading towards the noise.

Kizuki was only a toddler herself, just over one year old. She could string words together, but walking took an effort, it was very difficult without any assistance from the caretakers at the orphanage where she lived. Normally when she heard a baby crying, she would leave it for the caretakers to look after, though something compelled her to head towards the crying.

She walked with ease, which surprised her, considering how difficultly walking came to her.

She walked fast, heading towards the crying. She found herself walking down staircases and through long halls, until she came to the door that led out to the street.

"Kiki!" came a cry from across the hall.

Kizuki turned towards the sound of her name. One of the caretakers came towards her, picking her up in her hands.

"Baby," Kizuki said, pointing at the door.

The caretaker sighed deeply. "I know, Kiki" she said. "I heard."

The caretaker opened the door, and on the doorstep was a small basket, with heaps of blankets tucked into it. A small, crying baby lay inside, disturbed by the falling rain. The caretaker sighed, and raised the basket.

"Baby?" Kiki asked.

"Yes," the caretaker replied softly, looking sadly at the abandoned child. "This child will be coming to live with us."

Kiki clapped. She was exited at the baby would be living with her. She had already taken a shining to the crying child. It looked cute. It was small and chubby with a small mat of brown hair on it's scalp.

Kiki, while observing the baby, saw a small piece of paper.

"Paper!" Kiki exclaimed, pointing at the small roll of papyrus.

The caretaker gazed into the basket, and saw the sturdy paper tucked into the baby's blankets. She took it out. It only had one word written on it, in small, linked writing.

_Piandao_


End file.
